Was it a coincidence? Was it by design? Four senior Russians died suddenly over Christmas. Whatever the cause, the festive season fatalities represent President Vladimir Putin’s last effective weapon: Fear.
The Russians’ deaths comes as Moscow continues to batter Ukraine with missiles. On New Year’s Eve at least one person died as Kyiv and other cities were hit by Russian arms.
Ukraine said it shot down 12 of 20 missiles fired at it.
Some two dozen of Russia’s most senior oligarchs have died mysteriously in the past year. Many have fallen from windows. Others have tumbled down stairs. Some experienced sudden but fatal symptoms. Several allegedly resorted to murder-suicide.
Christmas offered no respite.
Alexander Buzakov, the director-general of Russia’s Admiralty Shipyards, died unexpectedly on Christmas Eve. No cause of his “untimely” death has been revealed.
Member of parliament and sausage tycoon Pavel Antov fell from a hotel window and died in India on Christmas Day. His best friend Vladimir Budanov, who had been travelling with him, died of a reported stroke in the same hotel two days earlier.
General Alexei Maslov, former Commander-in-Chief of Russian land forces, also died on Christmas Day after being rushed to a military hospital. Putin had cancelled a visit to his main battle tank manufacturing facility just days earlier.
And Vladimir Nesterov, a director general in Russia’s space industry, was also reported to have died over the festive period. No cause has yet been given.
There is little indication of foul play.
India’s police say the two hotel deaths are under investigation, but are not suspicious.
But the deaths do fit a pattern.
And that’s all Putin needs.
“I want you to show solidarity with the government,” he demanded after ordering Russia’s richest and most powerful to assemble shortly after he invaded Ukraine in February.
The threat behind the statement was unspoken but obvious: “Or else…”
Did a Kremlin agent push Antov? Did he jump amid mounting pressures? Or did he trip and fall through a plate-glass window?
As far as Putin is concerned, it doesn’t matter.
The fact that people suspect he was able to reach across international borders to kill a critic is enough. Unhappy billionaires, business moguls and civil servants will think twice before opening their mouths.
Death by window. Death by stairs. Death by sudden illness.
The only common symptom is criticising the Kremlin.
Antov, the founder of the Vladimir Standard meat processing plant, was worth some $246 million annually. He was also a deputy regional representative in Moscow’s Legislative Assembly.
He celebrated his 65th birthday two days before his death. The same day his friend died.
Antov leapt to global attention earlier this year when he posted to WhatsApp: “It’s extremely hard to call this anything other than terror”.
He was referring to Russia’s intense air bombardment of Ukraine’s civilian suburbs and towns.
He later edited the post, attempted to deflect blame by calling it all a “misunderstanding”, and emphasised his longstanding support of Putin.
Real estate tycoon and billionaire Dmitry Zelenov died on December 4. He was holidaying with friends on the French Riviera. Local media reports that he “suddenly” fell ill while dining before falling to his death down a flight of stairs.
The chairman of the oil company Lukoil, Ravil Maganov, was also openly critical of the invasion. He died in September after falling from the sixth-floor window of a Moscow hospital.
It’s not a good time to have opinions in Russia. Especially if you’re a fossil fuel executive, media editor, defence manufacturing official or even the head of Putin’s favourite ski resort.
And it’s official.
Any act that “delegitimises” Russia’s armed forces has been criminalised. That means everything from street protests to snide lunchtime remarks can get you a lengthy jail sentence.
If you’re an everyday citizen.
If you’re an oligarch who owes your position of wealth and power to Putin, it’s a death sentence.
In Russia, assassination is called mokroye delo, or “wet work”.
It was a speciality of Putin’s former employer, the Komitet gosudarstvennoy bezopasnosti (KGB).
He’s since rebranded the international espionage agency as the Federal’naya sluzhba bezopasnosti Rossiyskoy Federatsii (FSB).
And he’s got a wannabe successor eager to be seen as a tough guy.
Yevgeny Prigozhin is a long-term Putin loyalist and founder of the mercenary Wagner Group. He’s also known as “Putin’s chef”.
In November, he declared that any Russian tycoons “not supportive enough” of the Ukraine invasion should face “urgent Stalinist repressions”.
He has a bloody reputation.
Prigozhin’s Wagner Group has repeatedly been accused of war crimes in Syria, Libya and the Central African Republic. His operatives have been linked to atrocities in the Ukrainian city of Bucha.
But the hardliner is ambitious.
He’s been openly attacking Putin’s hand-picked generals and his long-term friend and ally, Minister of Defence Sergei Shoigu. But it’s a risky game. His personal army has also failed in its much-hyped attempt to capture the Ukrainian city of Bakhmut.
“Prigozhin leads a new generation of hardliners that surpasses even Putin’s old guard in their aggression,” says Hudson Institute Russia analyst Peter Rough. “Each will have a say in a post-Putin struggle for power or if the Russian Federation fractures.”
It all began with Putin’s rise to power in the late 1990s.
Most notably, Alexander Litvinenko had his cup of tea spiked while staying in a London hotel. He died from radiation poisoning shortly after.
Former Russian military officer and spy for British intelligence Sergei Skripal was poisoned, along with his daughter Yulia while in Salisbury, England, in 2018. Both recovered after being given an antidote for the Russian nerve agent Novichok.
A similar poisoning attempt failed against Putin critic Alexei Navalny in 2020.
But the death tally has spiked since Ukraine was invaded in February.
First were two Russian state-controlled Gazprom gas production and distribution company executives. Both openly declared the war to be unwarranted. And their company was to suffer a dramatic setback when its Baltic Sea Nord Stream gas pipelines were sabotaged in September.
The bodies of Leonid Shulman and Alexander Tyulakov were found even before the war started. Both had suicide notes.
Then, within a month, three prominent oligarchs — Vasily Melnikov, Vladislav Avayev, and Sergey Protosenya — were found dead, along with their wives and children. They were accused of murder-suicide.
Resort owner Andrei Krukovsky, manager of one of Putin’s favourite holiday spots, was found dead at the bottom of a cliff in May. In the same month, the billionaire owner of another gas company – Aleksandr Subbotin – was reportedly killed by a shaman (holy man) with toad venom.
In July, logistics billionaire Yuri Voronov was found dead in his St Petersburg swimming pool with a bullet hole in his head.
In August, Washington DC based Putin critic Dan Rapoport fell to his death from his apartment window – just a few kilometres from the White House.
Moscow Aviation Institute boss Anatoly Gerashchenko died in September after falling “from a great height” inside the institute’s headquarters in September.
And in November, Viktor Cherkesov – once a close ally of Putin who was fired after admitting infighting within Putin’s inner circle – died after the sudden onset of a “severe illness”.
And the December death toll began with Grigory Kochenov – an IT company executive – falling from his Novgorod balcony while Russian police searched his home.
For Putin, there can only be victory.
He’s making sure everyone knows it.
“Were he to give up on it, this would become the epitaph of his presidency, ending it in failure,” says Carnegie Russia and Eurasia Program director Eugene Rumer.
“He turned 70 in October and is probably looking at the next stage of his career as its final chapter. Failure, therefore, is not an option.”
Jamie Seidel is a freelance writer | @JamieSeidel
More than 60 fighter jets hit alleged missile production sites in Tehran.